The Divided Self
Delving into the possibilities of the mind is a lifting experience. Reading Karl Jung’s research on the subject is airing my attic and it’s aligned me to a stream of coincidence as road signs for further enquiry
I produced this painting called ‘Bridging the Divide’ as an exercise in improvisation. Stepping behind the conscious approach as a production technique.
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Be Bold
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I am a chrysalis of
I am
abounded by a dream
surrounded by a thistle
astounded
by a vision
given
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an occupant
inquisitor
awaiting
a promised time
with indecision
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© Garth Meaney 1/11/2015 All rights reserved
Posted in poetry
Tagged anxiety, art, be bold, being, creative writing, delight, failure, go for it, thoughtful
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Like a Falling Stone
before me slides the sky
like a veil’s passing
between the dark
illumined jewels
soft in the velvet void
hidden by the light
of the sun
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weightlessness descending
density suspended
up ended
revolving
in its dizzy space
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© Garth Meaney 23 October 2015
All rights reserved
Posted in poetry, Uncategorized
Tagged creative writing, existential spontaneity, garden of earthly delights, poetry, thoughtful
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Give Me Vision
after the tide receded
he sometimes took my hand
to lead me
to the wet shore
where the stranded sea-life lay
too late to escape with the sea
but hidden
– o –
I was small and he was old
and worn by war
not beaten
but filled still with life
lifting the flatter rocks
for puny me,
the portals
to another world erupting,
with teeming life,
crawling and tiny,
some larger,
some wonderful finds
creatures caught in a snooze,
every one rushing for cover
– o –
we plundered this underworld
with greedy eyes
slippery, gleaming and wet
my retinas printed with motion
– o –
he was deep this man
catching my eye
with a glance
plastered to the moment
for safe keeping
a signal for later
– o –
and the image recurred
as snapshots do, unbidden
demanding a relationship
with the present
urging me on to consider
the underbelly
of this apparent image
and stabbing the breast with a blast
of raw vision
searching the depths beneath
– o –
there in this long ago
and jagged shore
my mentor mage
was writing in code
his secrets
lifting the lids
on a poem of stone
after stone
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© Garth Meaney 21 October 2015
All rights reserved
Posted in poetry
Tagged creative writing, english language, free verse, mnemonics, ocean, vision
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Spinning Gene Pools
In nature’s mould in seething seas
in orbits set by fine degrees
describing circles wide and high
Its course through black eternal sky
a measurement of prophesies
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With effortless revolving ease
the fulcrum spins with energies
to fabricate and modify
in nature’s mould
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The Garden sown with expertise
unique with species It conceives
the conscious mind can never spy
the ghost unseen goes gliding by
enacting with its certainties
in nature’s mould
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Tagged creation, creative writing, english language, garden of earthly delights, poetry, writing 201 poetry
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Meanings Lost in Time #6
Two meanings this week
#1 – Hands Down (as in ‘I won hands down.’)
There is a good chance that this saying traveled to India with the imposition of the British Raj and their love of horse racing. Or maybe India had horse races before the British Devils colonised their country to plunder the wealth and strut about in a superior way.
Why Hands Down?
Well – when a jockey is racing, the adopted posture is the one best suited for balancing weight. Body raised from the saddle by feet firmly planted in the stirrups allowing the bent knees to act like shock absorbers. The body crouched so the rider’s head is quite close to the horse’s ears, perhaps to urge him on with whispered commands. Hold that dynamic image and imagine the frenzy of hoof pounding across the turf at speed, jockey’s elbows in.
When the leader realizes he’s way ahead of the pack and about to win, he sometimes settled back into the saddle to sit up straight, released the reins and let his hands hang down in a gesture of devil-may-care bravado.
Winning hands down.
#2 – Hobson’s Choice
It’s unlikely that anyone outside of the British Isles will know about this old saying from the days before trains but if ever you come to UK you will know what the locals are talking about whenever they mention it.
Horse drawn coaches were the way to get around the cities and for the long haul to other cities unless you were able to saddle up your own horse. Coaches gave protection from the weather as an obvious advantage but they were slow and uncomfortable and the state of the roads and the lack of heat didn’t enhance the travel experience.
For those in more of a hurry there were relay stations offering a change of horse for the rider intent on speed. I would guess that a horse at full gallop could last for about 25 miles before needing a rest so an enterprising gentleman call Hobson set up these relays all over UK.
No doubt there were leisure facilities and accommodation at each one so the rider could stretch his legs and generally enjoy himself with whatever was on offer unless he was passing through and wanted just a change of horse.
This form of travel was mainly used by men so there would have been a tavern and other temptations (naughty ones probably) to break the journey and empty their pockets.
The rider may have enjoyed the speed and energy of a two year old stallion for the first part of his journey but when he was ready to travel on, the horse offered could have been a five year old nag.
Rules were strict: The horse at the gate was the horse you got. No picking and choosing so Hobson’s choice became an expression for no choice at all.
Sir Oddly, Spikey the Girl-Fish, Gruesome Child
Day #4 of the Writing 201 Poetry course
Limericks based on a theme of Difference x 3
#1 – Sir Oddly
one eye too many forked tongue
walk like I’m stepping up rungs
I do have two kidneys
one lung and two feet
I’m handsome and liked by the ladies
#2 – Spikey the Hake
I’m a fish with no spines in a shoal
so it’s tricky for me to blend in
they see that I’m different
don’t leave me no bones
I’m lonely and spineless, no sistas
#3 – Gruesome Child
have you seen war dad, he had
have you seen bullets go by
I have son I have
(and a tear did flow)
bodies and bits in the sky
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play station games re-enacted
the boy had a gleam in his eye
was there blood dad and gristle
bones flying high
don’t ask me again, it gives me a pain
join up and give it a try









